


Chasing Yesterday

by I_Dont_Like_I_Obsess



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Around season 4 and 5, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Scenes, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, Mystery, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Suspense, Trauma, Unsub | Unknown Subject, original cases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Dont_Like_I_Obsess/pseuds/I_Dont_Like_I_Obsess
Summary: Letting go of the past is one thing. Plotting your life course around it is another. Samantha Auer knows what she wants: friends she can trust, a job that matters, and the answers behind her sister's disappearance. Everything else-a love life included-can take a backseat. With luck, the BAU will provide her an opportunity to have it all. S4-S5. Original cases. Slow burn.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. (1.1) Any Way You Want It

_"True strength lies in submission which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself."_

_~Henry Miller_

For some reason, the nerves hadn't hit her until she'd stepped into the small elevator and pressed the button for the 5th floor. Samantha shuffled back and leaned against the furthest, mirrored wall as the metal doors softly closed before her. As the shaft rose higher through the building, she felt that familiar pull in the pit of her stomach. A mix of gravity and uncertainty. One of her free hands gripped the strap of her bag just a little tighter.

Quantico, Virginia. The name hadn't felt all that reverent until now. Many of her fellow students in college had applied here straight out of earning their degree-everyone wanted to work here. She'd spoken to enough students to know that they all had a dream to stand alongside the best of the best in the country.

Her fingers massaged her temple in an effort to settle her stomach and rising apprehension. Best of the best was an understatement. All her training and studying for this. Right here. Best not screw it up...new blood in an old battlefield.

_You're here for a reason. You'll do fine. You made it this far._

The brunette looked up as the elevator settled in place, and the indicator announced that she'd arrived on her designated floor. Sam brushed down the front of her blouse and pants, as if expecting that wrinkles had magically appeared between here and when she'd pulled it out of the dryer that morning.

The doors opened and she stepped across the threshold before she could psyche herself out of moving. Repeating the mantra that she had made it here for a reason seemed to help, because by the time she opened the glass doors of the behavioral unit, her nerves had reduced to a simmering afterthought. Everyone had a first day of work, right? Hers was no different.

The room was abuzz with that inaudible hum of productivity and pushing paperwork. Your typical office environment. Cluttered cubicles, file folders, the smell of stale coffee always lingering, and that feeling that she was an outsider to those who had been here before. Hopefully things went well and the territorial assumption would quickly go away.

Several people were stuck at their desks with eyes glued to various folders and case files, though her entrance had caused a few to look up when she stepped through the glass doors. Sam's eyes, however, were locked on the office situated above and behind the other desks. Its two windows confirmed that it was indeed occupied by a man looking over case folders of his own.

Ignoring the curious staring from who would undoubtedly turn out to be her coworkers in the next half hour, Sam stepped around the bull pen of desks and ascended the three or four stairs to the raised walkway leading to the boss' office. The door was open, but she didn't feel welcome enough to simply let herself in. With a few timid knocks on the wood surface, she heard his quiet invitation to enter.

It was a nice enough room, and certainly less flashy than she'd expected. Surrounding his dark-wooded desk was a bookcase full of thick leather-bound books, neatly organized by volumes in the same series of publishing. A few small awards sat in the middle above where the man himself sat, but from their size it was clear that displaying them wasn't an attempt to flaunt. All business, functional, and very few personal affects. Her quick look at the room ended once he'd looked up in her direction.

"You must be Samantha Auer." The dark-haired man said once she'd presented herself, standing from his seat and offering a firm handshake. His other gestured to one of the chairs opposite his desk. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you." She replied, setting her bag by her feet and straightening to face her new boss.

First impressions? It was hard not to be intimidated. The man had barely flashed a smile upon their greeting, and his expression had returned to the stoic mask it no doubt had been before she'd arrived. His eyes were clear, hard, and studying her as if doing so was second nature. Well, he was a profiler. She supposed it truly was.

"I've had a look through your academic profile." He began in that deep tone of his, grabbing the relevant file from his desk and opening it to refresh his memory. Straight into business. "Graduated from University of Michigan with high marks. Master's degree in psychology, minor in criminology. Your professors also spoke highly of you."

Sam nodded, feeling the need to interject something, but decided against it. She didn't want to interrupt.

"Tell me about yourself." He requested.

"Umm...my family is from Illinois, but I went to Michigan for school and to set out on my own. I was looking for as much independence as I could get at the time." The brunette stated with a shrug, unsure of what else to say. "I'm young, but determined. Ready to start my career in a new place. I'm what you'd call fresh meat."

He glanced up at her expectantly, an eyebrow quirked slightly upwards. "This would be your first experience in the field?"

"Yes."

"What lead you here? Why the BAU? And why be a profiler?"

"I've always had an interest in people. Behavior, social patterns, nature vs. nurture, the whole nine yards." She gestured with her hand. "If not here, then I probably would have ended up somewhere similar. This gives me the opportunity to work in an area that I'm fascinated by, help people at the same time, and...discovering new things is always a nice plus."

"New things, such as?"

Her mouth quirked. "I don't know. I suppose I'll know when I discover them."

He nodded, as if mulling that point over, but he didn't say anything else about it. Samantha could feel the slight burn of being stared at through the window of Hotchner's office, but pointedly ignored it. Nosy coworkers, no doubt.

"You passed your preliminary simulation tests. No notes of concern from the instructors." He added, finally closing her file and giving her his full attention again, fingers linked and resting on his desk. "On paper, I'd say you're more than ready for the job."

Samantha withheld the 'thank you' that threatened to burst from her lips, catching something in his tone that indicated he had more to say. She was right.

"However, as prepared as you may think you are, I promise that not everything we do can be taught on a test or practiced in a simulation. We find ourselves frequently thrown into unpredictable and dangerous situations while away on cases. Things can get tense, or even deadly. It's one thing to shoot at paper targets. Another to face down a living being.

"This job is more than pushing papers and compiling a profile. You'll be required to think on your feet in stressful environments, make difficult decisions under pressure. Is that something you believe you can handle?"

An immediate answer would seem immature, as if she was chomping at the bit to throw herself in with the wolves and figure it all out as she went. But that wasn't Sam's way. Even so, she'd thought about what this job would mean well before applying for it. She blinked, taking in all he'd said, before giving a single nod. "I know I can handle it. And I'll work to show you that."

"Good." He said simply, expression never changing, but eyes taking in her own posture with an appraising glint. "It's customary that new agents start on a one-month probationary period, to determine that you are capable of handling the workload. You'll be supervised and evaluated throughout the cases you take on during that time. After which you'll receive a performance review by myself and my superior. Should everything go well, you'll be approved as an official agent."

"I understand." Of course. This was a big job. They wanted to be sure you could handle it. They didn't let just anyone have a badge and gun.

"Do you have a go-bag?"

"Yes, in my car."

Hotchner nodded and stood from his seat, prompting her to follow suit after only a moment. "Glad to hear it. You may be needing it sooner than you anticipated."

His gaze settled on something behind her, and she turned to spot a petite, blonde woman in a violet blouse and gray slacks standing in his doorway, a stack of manilla folders in her hand. The brunette hadn't even heard her approach. There was this air of confidence about her that Sam herself hoped to convey.

"The others are ready." The woman said.

"Perfect." Hotchner held out a hand to indicate the newcomer. "JJ, this is Agent Samantha Auer. She'll be joining the team under probation. Samantha, meet Jennifer Jareau, our Media Liason."

"Nice to meet you." The brunette greeted, shaking the offered hand from Jennifer, who smiled kindly in return. She decided that she liked this woman, if only her first impression to go off of. Confident and nice. A future friend, perhaps?

"Welcome to the team." They let go and she gave a rueful shrug. "I'd spend more time on introductions, but we have an urgent case that just came in."

"It's no problem."

"We meet in the conference room to discuss our game plan. Follow me, I'll show you there." She gestured for her to come along, stepping out of the doorway.

"I'll be along shortly." Hotchner said, and the two women vacated his office space.

Most of the desks that had been occupied when she'd walked in were now empty. No one around staring at her. It was natural to wonder about a new coworker, humans were curious creatures, but given the environment Sam couldn't help but wonder if her every move and expression had been studied and analyzed during the brief meeting with her boss through the window. The lack of a burn on the back of her neck was a welcome feeling.

Hard not to wonder what sort of assumptions they'd already made about her.

It was a short walk to the hexagonal office JJ was directing her to. Neither said anything on the way, and Sam could see that the blonde's expression was tight, worry creasing her brow. An urgent case, indeed.

The small conference room was furnished with a mounted screen on the back wall, a large round table and a handful of chairs, most already occupied by her new coworkers. JJ entered first, catching the room's attention when she spoke up.

"Hotch will join us in just a moment, but let's get started." She said, finding the nearest empty seat and lowering herself into it, then beginning to pass out the files she'd been carrying all this time. Samantha went to sit as well, but didn't get the chance.

"Hold on a sec. I think we can spare a minute for the new girl." The dark-skinned man said, grin in place as he gestured to the new agent. "Care to introduce yourself?"

He sounded amused, self-assured, but still friendly. She had no doubt that he could hold the attention of a room if he so chose.

Ignoring the sudden nerves, she cleared her throat quickly. "I'm Samantha Auer. I'll be working with you all for the next while under probation, in hopes of being allowed to stay on board indefinitely."

"Well, seems like you've already met JJ. I'm Derek Morgan." He said, offering a handshake which she took, then went around the room to the others sitting at the table. "These are agents Emily Prentiss..."

The beautiful, dark-haired woman gave a small smile and nod. Quiet. Aloof. But still, there was kindness behind her expression.

"...David Rossi..."

The older gentleman with the salt-and-pepper hair and very Italian-styled goatee quirked a slanted smile, coupled with that fatherly glint of approval in his eyes.

"...Penelope Garcia..."

A colorful and smiley woman standing close to the monitor on the wall twiddled her fingers and mouther a 'hi.'

"...and _Dr._ Spencer Reid."

The tall, lanky man raised a hand as hello, flashing a somewhat awkward and brief smile. As if he didn't know how else to respond to his own introduction. Sam was lead to believe Morgan was teasing him, what with the emphasis on his title.

"Nice to meet you all. I'm sure we'll have more time later to get personal. But it sounds like there are more pressing matters going on." She said, finally taking an open seat next to Rossi and getting comfortable.

"You're sadly very right, my love." Garcia said with an exaggerated sigh, holding up a remote and pointing it towards the screen on the wall. With a click, the screen changed to show several pictures of the victims they were being called in for. Regular-looking people, their lives cut short. "In the past week, 3 people were found dead in Aurora, Colorado. Rebecca Jenkins, Carly Wright, and Zander Van Dyke. Two were college students, one was a wedding planner and single mom."

Samantha winced at that last tidbit, opening her file to see the information they had available on each victim. The two female victims looked remarkably the same though different ages. Blonde, brown-eyed, pretty. However, other than their method of death, nothing seemingly linked the females to Zander. The gruesome pictures of their crime scenes were next to appear on the screen, but luckily she had been through enough case studies in college to be partially desensitized to the brutality.

"They were all stabbed multiple times. Like...a lot of times." The curvaceous blonde continued with a sad shake of her head and a grimace. "Over 30 in all three cases."

"That's a lot of rage." Prentiss muttered, eyes glued to one of the crime scene photos. "It takes a good deal of persistence to stab someone that many times."

"Each victim had slashes on their face..." Reid muttered, squinting at the screen in concentration. "Some sort of 'x.'"

Sure enough, long red slashes were present on each one. They started almost to the corners of the hairline all the way down to the jaw. The wounds were shallow, but still damaging enough to disfigure the face.

"What could the significance be?" JJ questioned, staring at the close-up images of the victims' faces.

"Hard to tell at first glance." Rossi said with a shrug. "Maybe some sort of calling card? A signature?"

"The coroner's report shows that the marks were done post-mortem." JJ pointed out. "Perhaps this is the unsub's attempt at preventing identification."

"Kind of reminds me of high school..." Samantha muttered suddenly, then glanced up when the others went quiet. They were all looking at her expectantly. "You know...X-ing out the yearbook pictures of classmates you hated?"

"Honestly, that might not be too much of a stretch." Prentiss agreed. "If the unsub's fixating on a past bully, this could be how he's connecting it to his trauma."

The pictures of the crime scene weren't anything fun to look at. Each scene was set in a different alley way of the city, the body draped beside a dumpster. Their placement was uncaring, sloppy. "It's clear they see the victims as little more than trash. Left next to dumpsters, no care in how the body is placed." Reid gestured to the photos up on the screen.

"Any signs of sexual assualt?" Morgan spoke up, his previous amusement gone in the face of the work at hand. All business now.

"No, the coroner couldn't find any evidence of that. Thankfully." Was Garcia's relieved answer.

"Strange that the unsub doesn't stick to one victim type." Rossi interjected methodically, glancing up at the screen. "Male and female, upper middle class and poor college students. There's no apparent pattern to who they target."

Samantha shrugged. "Victims of opportunity, maybe?"

"It's a possibility."

"Have the authorities found anything that links these three together?" Morgan asked, glancing back at the door as Hotchner entered the room. He took a seat across the table from Samantha, in between Reid and Morgan, opening his own file to take a look.

"No, but the strange thing is, _these_ three murders are uncannily similar to seven _others_ that took place in the 8 months previous." The bubbly blonde shrugged, clicking her button again and the images went away to reveal another handful of pictures. All seven victims fit the blonde-hair-brown-eyed victimology profile that seemed to be prevalent. "These seven women were also found by dumpsters throughout the city, stabbed multiple times, faces slashed. The whole shebang."

"10 bodies, and we're only now hearing about it?" Prentiss asked, incredulity coloring her tone. "Why wait so long if there's a clear pattern?"

"The local police felt they were getting close to a breakthrough, and so didn't think they needed the help." JJ offered with a small sigh. "Now, with so many new murders in so little time, they feel like they're in over their heads."

"So...9 females, all with similar physical appearances. Leads me to believe that these women are surrogates for the unsub's intended victim." Prentiss continued, chewing on the nail of her thumb in confusion. "And then there's Zander. He throws the previous victimology completely out the window. The unsub's never gone after males before. Why him? And why now?"

"We can only speculate until we know more about each victim. Perhaps we'll know more when we get there." Hotch offered, and the others nodded.

"If the unsub went from several weeks between kills to a few days, we're looking at a severe escalation with no known cause." He continued, looking around the room. "There's no indication that they plan on slowing down, in fact, everything points to the possibility that this is the beginning of a killing spree. With that in mind, wheels up in 30. We need to tackle this as quickly as possible before there are any more victims."

* * *

_Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap._

_Henry's fingers drummed an asymmetrical beat against the car's steering wheel, eyes flicking over at the woman in his passenger seat. She was the picture of calm, hands folded in her lap as she gazed out the windshield to the sidewalk opposite the parking lot. The beauty didn't bother looking at him when she spoke._

_"Pay attention."_

_"Right." He muttered in apology, forcing his eyes away and back to their surroundings. The occasional passerby crossed the view of their car. She hadn't spoken up yet, though, which meant there wasn't anyone she'd found that she wanted._

_His attempt at focus didn't last long, eyes eventually finding themselves back on the black-haired woman beside him. They'd been sitting there 20 minutes, and nothing happened that was as interesting as her._

_Sometimes he couldn't be sure she was real, the way she looked so perfect all the time, face serene and her eyes alight with cunning and something even deeper. An angel, sent just for him. Gracious enough to pay him of all people the time of day. The look of her fiery and determined spirit, the way she looked at him when they-_

_"You're staring at me again."_

_"S-sorry..." This time, however, he didn't look away. Licking his lips, they quirked upwards in a slight smile. "You're just...so beautiful."_

_Finally, she turned to him and he was rewarded with a small smile from her angelic lips. Those blue eyes glanced down at his lips, and he wished that she'd feel generous enough to kiss them with her own. But, she only gave a little chuckle and turned back to the windshield. The moment was gone. Henry wondered what he could do to bring it back._

_Just as he was thinking of something to say, her posture straightened and she pointed to someone walking across the other end of the street. "That one."_

_Henry peered with squinted eyes at who she was referring to, spotting a blonde woman jogging along with headphones in her ears. Maybe she'd be called pretty by most standards, but in comparison to the beauty beside him, she wasn't in the same league. He glanced to his passenger, who was staring at her with a pleased smile._

_"Are you sure? We did one yesterday."_

_"You got the wrong one." She retorted with ice in her voice, leveling him an accusing stare. It took everything in him not to curl into himself and die. "You said you'd do anything for me, right?"_

_"You know I would, Daphne." The answer was immediate, more desperate than he'd intended. However, it was nothing but the truth. How could she doubt his obvious devotion? "Whatever you want. I'll do it."_

_"Good. Then, I want you to get..." She pointed back out the windshield. "...her."_

_Henry swallowed, looking back at Daphne's choice with a growing determination. Whatever she wanted. He reached for the keys left in the ignition and started up the engine, throwing it into drive and rolling out of the parking spot they'd been sitting in for half an hour now. He could hear a pleased sigh escape Daphne's lips, and it only fueled him to get this done faster._

* * *

Samantha hadn't realized how comforting the muted rumble of a jet's engine could sound. The team had gone over the reports again for the first half hour of their flight, discussing any new ideas they had based on the information available. After that, they were free to occupy themselves how they saw fit until the jet landed.

The brunette had pulled out her novel that she hadn't been able to finish the night before, hoping the others wouldn't judge her questionable taste in literature. No matter how cheesy she knew they were, she was a sucker for trashy romance novels. But even after an hour of reading more into the dramatic lives of Jocelyn Gray and Damian Black, she'd grown bored and put it away to do something else.

She'd taken a spot at the far back of the plane and spent more time reading over the case files again. Nothing new jumped out at her from the page, no new miraculous detail that stood out. The droning of the plane gave her the perfect background noise to block anything and everything else out and just focus on the details of the case, but it didn't give her the laser focus required to solve it all just by staring at the pictures.

She supposed now would have been a good time to talk amongst the team and get to know them more, but she still wasn't sure where she fit into their social dynamic, or just what that dynamic even was. Samantha sure as hell wasn't outgoing enough to address it upfront and decided to let time do it's job for her. Brute forcing her way into circles of friendship was likely to have the opposite effect she was hoping for. Best to allow them to extend the offer first.

The ringing of a cellphone interrupted the relative quiet of the cabin, and Hotch pulled out his cell to answer. "Go ahead, Garcia."

The others' heads perked up, no doubt waiting to hear what sort of information the techy blonde was about to impart to them.

"I reached out to the precinct to let them know you were arriving soon, and let me tell you, I've never heard someone so frazzled." She started, discomfort audible in her voice. "If it were possible to make the plane fly any faster, I'm pretty sure they'd be begging you to step on the gas."

"Another body?" Hotchner guessed.

"Found in the last half hour. 25 year old Hailee Gordon was reported missing by her boyfriend when she didn't return home from a run early this morning. She was found by some dumpsters on the other side of town."

"How long between the missing person's report and the discovery of the body?" Rossi asked, which earned him a sad sigh from the analyst.

"6 hours at most."

"The unsub doesn't keep his victims for long before killing and disposing of them." Reid confirmed. "Quick and efficient."

"Any change in MO?" Was JJ's question.

"CSI is still on-scene, but nothing new so far."

Hotchner nodded, considering this new information. He turned to glance around at the others, eyes finally settling and flicking between Samantha and the older profiler.

"Auer, Rossi, you two check out the crime scene as soon as we touch down. Make sure you exchange contact information with the team before you go." He said, pointedly looking at the new member. She nodded dutifully.

"JJ, I want you to coordinate with the media, make sure they're not getting any ideas of giving this unsub more attention than he already has. Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss, I want you looking over the seven previous victims for anything that we might have missed."

Samantha was pleased to be sent out on the field immediately. She could show her stuff, prove to them that she could be an asset, helpful. And that she somehow knew what she was doing. Rossi caught her eye and gave a slight smile, which she returned shyly. His cool and unconcerned demeanor in being paired with the new girl was encouraging. Perhaps he had confidence in her ability, or maybe he just knew that whatever she screwed up, he could make up for in experience and pick up the slack.

_Don't mess this up.  
_


	2. (1.2) Partners?

Driven to immediate action by the new victim in the case, both Samantha and Rossi took one of the rental SUV's that were waiting past the airport terminal. Someone must have called ahead of them, since the moment Rossi flashed his FBI badge, they were brought straight to the vehicle they'd be taking. Convenient.

There wasn't any time to dwell on the luxury this job afforded her, however. The unsub's short timetable meant that every second wasted was that much closer to another murder. The rest of the team headed off for the station, leaving the two of them on their own. He drove, of course, having seniority. Sam was fine with that. Knowing her luck, she'd miss a turn or two and delay their arrival.

The road rumbled under the vehicle's tires, the air conditioning on medium since the afternoon sun was out in full strength.

They made it all of two minutes before the questions began.

"So, Agent Auer...you're fresh out of college and straight into the likes of the FBI." Rossi started nonchalantly, but with a clear tone that meant he was implying something. "Not many can say that."

"You can call me Sam, since I'm not an agent just yet." She reminded him gently. She could have guessed that once there was no one else around, the older agent would strike up a conversation. Rossi seemed like the type that enjoyed the sort of social interrogation this was likely to turn into. At her response, he gave a shrug.

"Perhaps not yet, but you're qualified to be here, which should say enough. They normally don't accept fresh graduates into a unit like ours."

Sam didn't recall telling him anything about her before, so she shot him a curious glance. "Let me guess. Agent Hotchner showed you my file?"

"Something like that." His eyes were fixed on the road as he navigated them through a busy intersection in a left turn. The brunette had never been to Colorado, but even knowing nothing about it, she hadn't anticipated so much traffic.

"I honestly wasn't expecting to be accepted, but I figured it was worth a shot to request it. You just so happened to be hiring. Luck had a lot to do with it."

Rossi hummed, slowing the car to a stop at a traffic light. "Psychology majors usually come out one of two ways; self-made Einsteins teeming with superiority complexes, or those humbled by their craft. Someone who understands that just because they can infer what makes a person tick, doesn't mean they know _everything_. Glad to see that you're the latter."

She gave a huffed laugh. "I thought profiling team members was discouraged? Pretty sure the employee handbook mentioned something about it."

"Eh...force of habit. When you've been in the business as long as I have, you forget to turn it off." He said with a humored smile. "Profilers are a nosy bunch by nature, but I think you've learned that by now."

"Yeah, kind of hard to miss the staring." Sam said with mirth. "I don't mind it, though. I'm just a stranger right now, what with the case coming in so soon."

"Not the most orthodox of first days at work, I suppose. Leaves little time to adjust and really get to know the team before having to work with them. But maybe that's not so bad an introduction either."

"I guess not."

There was a beat of silence, before he sprung back into conversation, shaking his head a little, as if whatever he was thinking had him confused.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sam, but...why are you here? You could've chosen any place you wanted to use your education. A clinical psychologist, maybe a high-level social worker..." He gestured over to her. "You're young, ready to get your name out in the world...Why pick a career where you see the worst humanity has to offer?"

Sam paused. She'd never been a big fan of pouring her heart out to strangers, or even coworkers for that matter. Even if Rossi could pass as a concerned grandfather all day long, she wouldn't be swayed by his enticing question.

"Well..." She gave a little sigh. "I guess I'm just a little unorthodox myself."

He flashed her an amused grin. Part of her wondered if he saw through her attempt at deflection, but didn't dwell on it long as he directed his gaze back to the road. The car began to slow as they approached their destination.

This part of town was clearly home to those closer to the poverty line. Streets looked unkempt, house faces aging with chipping paint and broken wood steps leading up to the doors. A few curious people were out on their porches, watching with interest at whatever might be going on.

The coroner's marked van and several police cars were already on scene, blocking the entrance and a visual to an alleyway in between two aging apartment buildings. Yellow tape marked the perimeter, keeping any nosy passersby and curious reporters away from the evidence. Uniformed men and women lingered around, taking note of everything they saw.

"Let's see what the unsub has in store for us." Rossi said without excitement, shifting the car into park and taking out the keys. The light conversation had passed. Time to go to work. Sam exited from her passenger side door, waiting for her older partner to round the vehicle before crossing the crime scene tape.

This place certainly fit the description of a 'dump site.' The dumpster was overflowing with trash, a few of the black bags having been discarded on the ground right beside it. One must have torn open, because there was loose garbage strewn about the ground. Old coffee cups, crumpled up tv dinner boxes, soda cans, and so on.

Among the filth was the body of their latest victim. It was gruesome, the young blonde's face marked with the same slashes present on the previous bodies, her torso littered with red stab wounds. Her jogging clothes were stained a deep crimson from blood, already beginning to dry into the ugly brown stains she had been used to seeing in crime scene photos.

Her chest tightened with an unexpected wave of...grief upon seeing the young woman this way. Not much younger than Sam herself. She'd had so much of her life yet to live, and because some twisted human being got his rocks off by snuffing out other people, she'd never get to see what the years had in store for her.

Seeing it first hand was so much more impactful than looking at the pictures in college. There was no distancing yourself from the reality. It was right there, right in front of her, and it was her responsibly to make sure that this young woman didn't die for nothing, and that there'd be no more after her. No pressure or anything.

It took a considerable amount of effort for her to reign in the onset of strong emotions, but she was here for a job. Damn her if she wouldn't do it the best she could.

The coroner-a stout, bald man with a thick gray mustache-was crouched beside the body to inspect it closer, but stood upon seeing the two smartly-dressed agents approaching. "You're the FBI?"

"Indeed we are." Rossi answered with charm, leading him and his younger compatriot closer to have a look after displaying his badge. "Anything you can tell us about her?"

He gave a sigh. "Not much. The only reason we know who she is this soon is thanks to the driver's license in her wallet. Name's Hailee Gordon, 25 years old, lives about 6 blocks from here." He explained, gesturing down at the body.

"As far as I can tell, cause of death was blood loss from the stab wounds, but after a full autopsy we'll know for certain. Slashes on the face were also post-mortem, just like the others. We're still waiting on a lab analysis of her blood sample to come back for a toxicology screen, but if it's the same guy you're looking for, it should come back clean."

Rossi's head tilted, one eye nearly squinting closed. "No trace of drugs at all in their systems?"

"None that I could find." Was the response.

He continued asking the coroner questions, but Sam took a look at the surroundings. The alley was narrow, room enough for only one car to enter at a time. She peered to the far end, where it met up with the street behind the dilapidated apartments, and noticed a 'one way entry' sign spray painted into the pavement. Past that was the back of a empty lot, full of dirt and rocks and debris, either from the dumpster itself or people littering.

Looking back at the side of the alley that they'd come in through, she peered at the buildings across the way. More housing for the less fortunate, fading paint and chipped stone accenting most homes, but sadly without any cameras in sight. So much for pulling surveillance records from neighboring buildings.

"See anything?" Rossi asked suddenly, finished speaking with the coroner and coming to stand beside her.

"No, and that's what bugs me." She pointed to both sides of the alley. "No security cameras cover this alley from either end. It's a visual dead zone. The residents probably can't afford the cost to install any. Unless someone passed by this spot at _just_ the right moment, no one would see him dump the body."

"You think the unsub was counting on that?" It was just the sort of leading question her professors would ask her in college.

"I can't be sure but...maybe. It just seems too convenient that he chooses _this_ spot to get rid of the body." She gestured to the dumpster again to emphasize her point, unwilling to put too much stock in what she thought was such a small insight. But Rossi nodded as if she'd just shown him concrete evidence that her hunch was correct.

"That would mean the unsub knows the area well. Probably a local. What's more, he's bold enough to dump his victims in broad daylight." The older man's eyes raised to the sky. "Somehow he's able to dispose of his victims without tipping off anyone who may have been nearby to witness it."

"Or he just doesn't care who sees? Comes across as a bit arrogant if you ask me."

"I doubt that." He shot back. "I don't think it's arrogance. He's gone this long without getting caught. Even if he _is_ getting comfortable, he knows not to push it too far and get sloppy. There's a carefulness about it all."

"He must have a vehicle that doesn't stand out, then." She surmised thoughtfully, feeling like they were on the right track. His confidence in her deductions was encouraging. It was something she enjoyed so far that college hadn't offered, a back and forth discussion of theorizing the truth. "We should interview neighbors just in case, see if they noticed anything unusual."

"Looks like the precinct has already got that covered." Rossi nodded towards the end of the alley, and she turned to see officers talking to several people at their doors along the opposite street. The police were nothing if not quick. He turned back to where the coroner was working. "Take a look at the body and tell me what you think."

"You're testing me already?" She asked with a small smile, and he returned it, a fraction of the humor he'd shown in the car returning.

"Fresh eyes are a welcome perspective, Samantha. Let's see what you bring to the table."

Fair enough. Turning her attention back to the victim, Sam moved closer and crouched beside the body, careful not to get her pants too dirty. She tried her damndest not to curl her nose up at the smell. The mixture of trash and decomposition was nauseating. She was expected to stomach this sort of thing without a problem. Sam wasn't squeamish, but pictures on a case file and the in-person thing were truly no comparison.

She took a moment to really look, pushing the sad thoughts to the back of her mind for now.

"...He's switched back to his original victim type; young, blonde, pretty." Sam mentioned. "Zander may not have been his intended victim, after alll. Maybe he was simply in the way?"

It was hard not to phrase her thoughts as a question. Old habits died hard, she supposed. All that classwork was showing through.

"That's looking more like the case." Rossi neutrally agreed, careful not to interject too much and throw off her train of thought.

The poor woman's face was a mess, paling blue skin littered with cuts. Her hair was matted with blood, coloring the blonde locks a sticky red shade. Her eyes were half open, staring upwards with a thousand yard stare. The brunette couldn't help but wonder the last thing she saw before dying. Morbid, surely, but it was a hard thought to shake.

"No ligature marks, and the coroner said they usually don't have drugs in their systems..." She muttered thoughtfully. "Either he's charming enough to lure them where he needs them to go, or he doesn't give them a chance to put up a fight.

"And she wasn't killed here. There's blood on her, but nowhere nearby. This was just the dump site." Sam felt like that was already a known fact, but felt better by saying it out loud, like they were putting the pieces together as they spoke.

"Are there any signs of trauma on the body, other than the stab wounds?" Rossi asked aloud, catching the coroner's attention again.

"Some bruising on the arms and legs; classic defensive wounds. She put up _some_ sort of fight before she died. And there is a blow to the back of the head, right here." He reached down and gently tilted the woman's head to the side, revealing the back of her skull. With her hair in the way, they couldn't see much, but he indicated a circular area behind her ear. "The damage wasn't severe enough to kill her, but would most likely have rendered her unconscious. Probably caused by a blunt instrument."

Sam looked up at Rossi. "Blitz attack?"

"That's what I'm thinking. He takes them by surprise and by force."

With a nod from her companion, she kept looking, hoping for something that was possibly left behind that the unsub didn't know about. Some DNA evidence, some mistake that might lead them to him and save anyone else from being killed. The brunette pulled from her knowledge, everything she could possibly think of that they covered in her classes. Surely something had to stand out.

Further down her neck, along her collarbone, something made Sam frown. She peered closer, but the edge of Hailee's top covered whatever it was.

"Can you...lift up the edge of her tank top? Right there." She pointed, garnering the coroner's attention. He did so carefully with his gloved hand, revealing the mark completely without tampering too much.

The word 'bitch' was inked into the woman's skin, the skin still raw and fresh. Patches of the ink were lifting and blotching on the surface. There wasn't any particular style or art to the piece, which was why it stood out so much to her.

"Is that a tattoo?" Sam could feel Rossi hover behind her, peering down to take a look for himself.

"Yeah. But this doesn't seem like something she'd willingly have done."

"All of them had some derogatory word etched into their skin. The words varied, but they were all similarly insulting." The coroner provided helpfully, leaving the two agents silent for a moment.

"The unsub is tattooing them..." Sam pondered, unsure what exactly that meant, before finally glancing upwards at her partner in confusion. "That wasn't in the files we received."

"You're right. It wasn't." Rossi appeared somewhat irritated, frowning down at the victim in thought. She watched expectantly He must have noticed. "If there was one thing missing, there might be others. We need to know everything in those original files."

* * *

The police station was rife with officers and detectives going about their general business. Privy to how most police officers disliked interference of federal agents, the brunette expected sidelong glares and irritated whispers as they passed. To her pleasant surprise, most the general feeling was of relief that they were getting some help in solving this tough and worsening case. It was nice to be appreciated, though admittedly there wasn't much she'd done to deserve of it on her first day.

Rossi and Samantha both stepped past the main bullpen to meet at the open space towards the back. Set up beside a round conference table was a large, clear plastic board. Pictures of the victims and what information they did know were stuck to the top, along with a map of the area on the far right side.

Several open case boxes sat on the desk, and Morgan and Prentiss were currently going through them with concentration. Reid stood at the board, eyeing the map with interest and dotting specific points that were important to the case. Broad circles were drawn around the dots he did create.

"What did you find at the crime scene?" Morgan asked curiously when he noticed they'd approached.

"Discrepancies." Rossi gestured to the pictures of victims on the board. "The newest victim had a derogatory tattoo on her chest. The coroner said they all did, but there wasn't any mention of them in the files."

"Tattoos?" Prentiss frowned, grabbing a few files and opening them to display the pictures attached. Her eyes squinted, combing through the images in concentration. "Huh...Yeah, you're right. Why omit that detail, though?"

"The investigators might not have thought it relevant." Reid stated lightly, eyes never straying from his map.

"Makes you wonder what else they didn't think to include." Morgan muttered disappointingly, setting down the case file in his hand and leaning back in his chair. He let out a long sigh. "On top of that, there is one major difference between the first vics and our newest ones. We should have seen it when we first saw the case files."

"The first 7 women all had their hair cut." Prentiss provided, pointing to the board where the pictures were displayed. Sam and Rossi stepped closer to take a look. "The cuts are jagged, crudely done without thought or care."

"It's probably the unsub's way of humiliating his victims." Morgan summarized. "Destroy their esteem and self-image. For women especially, hair is an important part of their identity."

"So, he's a hairstylist gone postal?" Rossi joked.

"We shouldn't rule it out just yet, but this new MO doesn't exactly lend it credence."

Sam looked between the photos on the board, this time paying special attention to the victims' hair. Like Morgan said, they all had their hair cut, in some cases almost to the scalp. They were choppy, done with a regular pair of scissors, perhaps. It didn't necessarily leave out hairdressers in their subject pool, but it definitely suggested an alternative.

The sudden switch in MO, a lack of attention to the victims' hair, the tattoos, and the slashes on the face...Sam tried to put the seemingly random pieces of the puzzle together, chewing the corner of her lip in thought.

Something was bugging her with their current assumption.

Prentiss finally shook her head. "Have they ruled out the possibility of a copycat?" "Not entirely, but the detective doesn't seem to think it is one." Morgan said. "The fact that all the victims had tattoos, which weren't even mentioned in the case files...how would a copycat know about them?"

"He would if he was close to the unsub, if he watched it happen..."

"You think there's a partner?" Rossi added curiously, turning to Prentiss.

"I wouldn't discredit it so soon." She replied flippantly. "It's hard to say. Though the shift in MO does point to something. I'm just not sure if it's a psychological change in behavior or another individual taking up the mantle"

"Studies speculate that more than 20% of serial killers operate with a partner." Reid suddenly started, now shifting his attention from his board to his team members, "Generally they choose someone they can hold a clear dominance over, often times exploiting persons with submissive tendencies, insecurity, mental illness, or low intelligence."

Sam was impressed that he could recite such a statistic at will, wondering how many times he'd read it in a college book to have memorized it. Reid looked studious enough, though. Maybe he was just really into his work.

Their speculation was interrupted by JJ and Hotchner joining the rest of the team, lead by someone clearly in charge. The uniformed man walked over to her and Rossi. Above average height and physically fit, the black-haired man looked all business and definitely a little on edge with the investigation going as it was. No wonder he asked for the FBI's help in the matter.

"Detective Matt Latimer." Hotchner introduced with a raised hand to indicate the man they had been walking with. "These are Agents Auer and Rossi. They just returned from the newest crime scene."

"Hello, both of you." The shiny nameplate pinned above his breast pocket identified him as such, and Sam shook his hand after Rossi. "We're very grateful for your help. I'm hoping we can solve this thing before any more people are found dead."

"We'll certainly do what we can." The older profiler promised, nodding his understanding of the detective's urgency. They all had a wish that Hailee would be the last to die at this killer's hands. And after seeing her discarded like that in the trash, Samantha especially.

He stood with hands on his hips, eyes flicking to stare at the board of evidence they'd compiled so far, a glumness settling in his gaze at the sheer number of victims. "I've had officers ask neighbors if they saw or heard anything suspicious this morning, but no one seems to have any information. Figures, though. People around those parts tend to keep to themselves."

"Not a tight-knit community?" Sam guessed, but the officer shook his head.

"The opposite, actually. When someone stirs up trouble, they tend to solve their own problems because everyone's in each others' pockets. Drugs, prostitution, you name it. They don't like it when we start knocking on doors asking questions."

"And yet nobody saw anything?" Prentiss asked incredulously with a shake of her head.

Latimer sighed. "From what we've gathered, that's correct. This guy either knows how to blend in or paid someone to keep quiet about it."

"No, that leaves too much to chance. He's too cautious to risk someone ratting him out." Hotchner noted evenly, stern eyes scanning over the board alongside the team. "Most likely he's one of the community. Someone they trust."

"That's just gonna make it harder to find him. It the locals don't suspect him, they won't feel too inclined to disclose important information about him." Morgan pointed out.

"Then we need to keep digging, find something that clearly identifies him. JJ will coordinate a press conference with the media this afternoon, make sure the narrative the public sees is the one we push." Hotchner continued. "Chances are he's already on the hunt for his next victim, so we need to work fast."


End file.
